


Make The Dark Slowly Fade Away

by Lion_owl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: S03e08 The Eye of the Phoenix, Episode: s03e04 Gwaine, Genderqueer Merlin, Missing Scenes, Other, Pansexual Gwaine, demisexual merlin, loosely implied gwaine/merlin/lancelot, mentioned arthur/gwen, they/them pronouns for Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: Merlin and Gwaine reveal their feelings for each other during the quest to the tower of the Fisher King. Unfortunately they must still separate once it's over, but at least this time they know that stupid things like destinies or tyrant kings won't keep them apart forever.





	Make The Dark Slowly Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittensTinyMittens (Onasariel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onasariel/gifts).



“I’m getting cold,” Gwaine said, prodding uselessly at the fire with a long piece of wood before chucking it on the pile and watching it light up.

The problem was not that the fire wasn’t doing its job, but rather that he missed Merlin’s proximity sitting on the log beside him, ever since Gwaine had offered to take first watch and Merlin had moved to try and make themself comfortable on the ground.

The problem, in fact, was that Gwaine was rapidly falling in love with Merlin.

When he had first seen them sitting in Mary’s tavern, he had immediately been distracted by how handsome they were, and chuckled to himself when Mary had said so; especially when she had shot down their smug companion, who was so obviously used to getting _all_ the attention.

He wasn’t always as eager to get into tavern brawls as people liked to imply, but he did derive a thrill from them every now and then, and it was especially gratifying to be able to defend a handsome stranger in the process

When he’d woken up in an unfamiliar bed the next day with a foggy memory and then Merlin had walked in, he’d been utterly convinced as to what had happened, until Merlin cleared things up – and then he’d expected to feel disappointed, but wasn’t.

Usually when he met someone who he found attractive, they would have a good night together, maybe a few days if he was lucky, and part ways after that. But Merlin hadn’t appeared to be looking for sex, and Gwaine had found that he didn’t care, that he just wanted to be in Merlin’s presence.

He flirted with Gwen, who was undoubtedly beautiful, but his heart wasn’t in it, and as he’d walked away, he’d realised he was glad she rejected him. Imagine being _glad_ a beautiful woman had rejected him!

He had expected Merlin to get bored of him pretty quickly, but just as it was becoming clear that that wasn’t true – and that maybe, just maybe, he had finally found somewhere he could call home – fate, in the cruel form of Uther, intervened; sending him packing once again. He had kissed Merlin goodbye on the cheek and then fled down the corridor before they could see him blushing.

No matter how much time passed since his banishment, he rarely found himself straying far from Camelot’s borders, nor Merlin straying far from his mind. Everywhere he went, he looked out for Merlin, hoping they would be there by happenstance. That had happened only once, at a market in a town in Gawant. They’d been with Arthur, Gwen and someone he’d later learned was Lancelot.

He’d ended up being too feared that Merlin wouldn’t want to see him, and ducked into the adjacent garden to hide; but Merlin had noticed him and followed him, sat down next to him on the bench and struck up a casual conversation. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long for Arthur to come impatiently demanding Merlin’s presence, so the meeting had been painfully brief.

So how, then, when Merlin had shown up out of the blue and asked him to help them with a quest, could he possibly have said no?

“Why do you want to do this?” Merlin had asked.

“Same reason as you: to help a friend.” That was true, but he also would take any opportunity afforded him to spend time with them, no matter the situation. He _craved_ to spend time with Merlin. His entire body and soul ached for it.

“Arthur’s lucky to have us,” Merlin had said and Gwaine wanted to pinch them, to gather them in his arms and kiss some sense into them.

He’d settled for saying “not Arthur”, but resolved that he would tell them how he felt before they parted ways.

 

“I’m getting cold,” Gwaine said, prodding uselessly at the fire with a long piece of wood before chucking it on the pile and watching it light up.

“Come down here, then,” Merlin said, though their voice sounded thick with sleep so Gwaine didn’t know whether they were actually addressing him, or someone they were dreaming about; so he stayed put.

“Gwaine?” Merlin prompted a moment later, rolling over to look up at him, eyes wide open. “We haven’t heard from the so-called pheasants in a while, and there are no bandits in these lands. Come and get some rest.” They patted the ground in front of them and lifted up an arm for Gwaine to climb under.

His heart skipped a beat.

Cocooned in Merlin’s arms, he fell asleep quicker than he had in years.

 

In the morning, Merlin was already up when Gwaine woke, stamping out the fire. Gwaine wasn’t entirely sure that was necessary, here, in the Perilous Lands, but assumed they were doing it out of habit.

“We’d better get going,” they said, voice serious. They were worried about Arthur. To be fair, so was Gwaine, not that he’d necessarily admit that; he just wished that the circumstances of their first time sleeping in each other’s arms could have been different, that this morning could have been languid and comfortable.

“Of course,” he agreed. Perhaps they could talk as they walked.

It was Merlin who spoke first: “I’m glad you’re here, Gwaine.”

Oh, how infrequently he heard such a sentence. “So am I,” he said. “I would worry something terrible, to think of you crossing these wretched lands on your own…” _and when I’m near you I can breathe again,_ he didn’t add. “What exactly is Arthur doing here, anyway?”

“He has to retrieve the Trident of the Fisher King to prove he’s ready for the throne,” Merlin said, and Gwaine could _hear_ the disdain in their voice. “But Morgana gave him a bracelet embedded with an eye of the phoenix and it’s going to kill him if we don’t get it off him in time.”

“Best we get to him in time, then.” Gwaine was about to quicken his pace, but Merlin stopped still and caught him by the arm.

“I need to talk to you first. I need to tell you something important, something that this quest might reveal. I came to you for help for two reasons. I needed someone I could trust, and I trust you implicitly…”  they hesitated, and Gwaine nodded encouragingly.

“I have Magic,” Merlin said.

“Okay,” Gwaine said.

“Okay?” Merlin repeated, uncertainty wobbling their voice. Had they been expecting him to explode with anger, or something?

“What’s the second reason?” Gwaine asked, trying to remain nonchalant even as it occurred to him just how much danger Merlin was in, as someone with magic, living in Camelot, and as the personal servant of the Crown Prince, no less; even as he grappled with how much trust Merlin was placing in him by telling him this.

“I just really wanted to see you,” Merlin said, a blush spreading across their face. They turned back to the path ahead and took off at a jog. Gwaine stood still for a few moments more, his mind reeling at what they’d just said, before sprinting to catch up.

 

Gwaine’s heart was in his throat when Merlin got trapped in the throne room alone, and _he’d pushed them in!_ He’d been so scared they’d get crushed by the door when he saw it falling and acted reflexively, but goodness knows what horrors he’d pushed them into. The worry was starting to make his breath shorten, and his skin felt tight. If something bad happened, how could he ever forgive himself?

The sheer relief that washed over him when he saw Merlin unharmed threatened to wash him away entirely, his feet moving forward of their own volition as he flung his arms around them and pulled them close, holding them tight. Merlin embraced him in return, and he could have stood there forever.

“Ha!” Arthur’s self-satisfied laugh pierced the air, and they separated, though still clinging to each other by the arm. “Look what I found! Let’s get out of here.” Arthur pushed past them, and Gwaine couldn’t help shooting him a sour look. How could he be so bloody oblivious?

“Are you okay?” he asked Merlin, taking in the way Merlin was staring at the cobwebbed throne, forlorn. “What happened in here?”

“I don’t think I am,.” Merlin said. “The Fisher King. He was still alive, I talked to him, he said this was my quest, not Arthur’s, and asked me to give him the bracelet. He’s dead. He’s dead and I killed him,  but it was what he wanted me to do. I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Gwaine pulled Merlin towards him again. “You did the right thing, my dear.”

Merlin looked like they were about to say something, but then Arthur came back to the doorway, wanting to know what was taking them so long, turning on his heels before they could answer, and with a sigh and, from Merlin, one final glance at the throne, they followed, neither of them mentioning the fact that they were holding each other’s hands.

 

When they got outside the castle, they could feel an immediate change in the air, compared to before: it was less arid, less stuffy; there was a gentle breeze. Gwaine had heard the legends of the Fisher King, whose battle-wound had infected his lands. Now he was dead, and the air was clearing; perhaps the legends were true.

“The bridge-keeper, Grettir, said he wished to see these lands restored,” Merlin noted as it began to rain.

It was Gwaine who spotted the single flower growing among the decay. For a split second he thought to pick it and tuck it behind Merlin’s ear, but decided it would be disrespectful to the Fisher King – so he simply pointed it out to them instead. “See? I said you did the right thing.”

Arthur marched ahead, but Merlin walked slowly and Gwaine lingered behind with them.

“Are you really not afraid of me now you know I have magic?” Merlin asked.

“Not at all. I trust you implicitly,” he said, echoing what Merlin had said to him earlier. “My mother always told me that magic is a tool, determined to be good or evil not by its nature, but by its user.”

“I can feel magic in this rain,” Merlin said, raising their arms above their head and turning their palms towards the sky. “I can feel the relief and joy in it.”

“I wish I could experience that,” Gwaine said.

“Maybe you can,” Merlin smiled and stepped towards him. “Maybe I can be a bridge for you. Can I kiss you?”

Gwaine could scarcely believe his ears. “Please, please do.”

He stepped right up to Merlin, who lowered their arms and draped them over Gwaine’s shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around their waist as they pressed their lips to his – and yes, he could feel the magic, feel it singing, feel it flowing from Merlin’s body into his own. They kissed, rainwater sliding down their faces between them, sticking their hair to their skin. They kissed until they could barely breathe and then kissed some more – and when they finally broke apart, they laughed and laughed until they ached. Their joy fused with the rainwater as it soaked into the healing Earth.

 

By the time they resumed walking – leaning against each other, arms around each other’s waists – Arthur had disappeared from sight, and dusk was beginning to fall. They didn’t see him again until they reached the bridge which marked the end of the Perilous Lands, where he was standing talking to Grettir. He looked up as they approached.

“Where have you two been?” Arthur asked, earning a bashful look from Merlin.

“I should think they were taking in the ambience?” Grettir said, and though it sounded like a question, Gwaine didn’t miss the smirk on his face… oh, Gwaine realised, with a tinge of discomfort. Oh. Grettir had magic too, didn’t he? And he _lived_ here; he must be finely attuned to these lands.

Judging by Merlin’s shocked expression, Gwaine guessed they had come to the exact same conclusion he had: Grettir was fully aware of the kiss they’d shared _._

Arthur, thankfully, seemed not to have heard the remark, and simply shook his head. “Come on, we’d better keep going. We’ll make camp when we reach the horses.”

 

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Camelot,” Merlin said. They were gathering firewood while Arthur hunted for dinner. “I mean, I do want to go back to Camelot, but I wish it didn’t mean leaving you behind.”

“I know the feeling.” Gwaine had been putting off thinking about how it would be, once the quest ended. He wished desperately Merlin could go away with him, but he would never ask that. “But I don’t think you’d enjoy the life we’d lead.”

“It isn’t fair,“ they continued. “I didn’t ask for this life, for this destiny. I’m supposed to be honoured, and in a way, I am; but it’s such a heavy burden. I’m tired.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I hate Uther. For what he’s done to my kind; for what he’s done to Arthur and Morgana; for all the times he’s tried to kill Gwen, and for killing her father; for driving Lancelot away, and for banishing you.” The sadness in Merlin’s expression was turning to anger. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

Gwaine didn’t blame them: in fact, he agreed. But unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop the old tyrant. Instead, he put his pile of firewood on the ground and put his arms on Merlin’s shoulders, drawing them closer. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Arthur will let you come back, when he’s King. I’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin was staring at the ground, so Gwaine put a thumb under their chin and encouraged them to look at him.

“I look forward to that day,” he said, kissing Merlin gently. “I hope it’s soon.”

“I think it will be. I think… Morgana will make her move soon, and maybe in the fallout we can find a reason for you to come back.”

“Then let’s focus on that,” Gwaine suggested. “Smile, yeah?”

Merlin did smile, and kissed him again. The firewood they were still holding dug into his chest, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t notice the bandits approaching them until Merlin broke their kiss and turned and stretched out his arm and several of the bandits were sent flying back against the trees, cries of pain echoing amid the sound of the footsteps of the others running away.

When they turned back to him, their eyes, now shining gold, were lined with panic, as if they had only just realised that they’d accidentally used magic in front of him and now reality was going to come crashing on top of them. As though they were going to be met with the fear and anger they were used to.

Gwaine felt nothing but love.

He launched himself at them and the pair ended up on the ground, laughing in between kisses until the tree roots and scattered firewood became too uncomfortable on their backs.

“We’d better get back before Arthur comes looking for us,” Merlin said. Gwaine nodded his agreement.

“I don’t get very far from Camelot anymore, you know,” he admitted. “Even though I can’t be with you, I need to be close by at least. Maybe… maybe you could visit me if you ever manage to persuade Arthur to let you have a holiday.”  

Merlin looked like they might start crying. “I’d be delighted to visit you. I worry about you out there; I feel better to know you’re within travelling range.”

“Then it’s settled,” Gwaine grinned, and lightly kissed Merlin once more before they reached their camp, to which Arthur had already returned.

*

Every time they had to say goodbye to Gwaine, it only got more difficult.

They both became quiet as Camelot’s border approached. They’d agreed unspoken between the three of them that Gwaine would ride as far as he legally could, but it still didn’t feel like enough and Merlin had to focus to not let themself cry.

 

“By Uther’s decree I can go no further.”

“I’m sorry, Gwaine. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“Maybe one day,” Merlin said. A silent promise: _I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes._ They know Arthur will revoke his banishment as soon as he can.

 

“Where will you go this time?”

Gwaine licked his finger and held it into the wind. “I think I’ll ride south.”

“You can’t keep living like that.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun trying,” Gwaine said, but he sounded resigned, tired.

 

Arthur began to ride away, and Merlin lingered for a moment, frozen on the spot, wishing they didn’t have to follow. Gwaine set off in the opposite direction.

 

“What kind of price?”

“A day off.” _Or a week off, or a month, a year._

“Hmm. I think you've had too many of those herbs that you've been picking.”

“Three days. Please. Since I gave up this time off to come and save your life.”

Arthur looked ready to protest, to point out that Merlin should not have done that. But then he nodded. “Fine, three days and not an hour more.” 

“Thank you sire.” Merlin turned to canter after Gwaine. They thought they heard Arthur chuckle, but they might have imagined it.

 

It didn’t take long to catch up with him and they slowed to a trot to match Gwaine’s horse.

“Merlin!” Gwaine grinned as they drew beside him. “Don’t tell me Arthur’s already back in mortal danger?”

Merlin laughed. “No, you know I couldn’t be parted from you just yet. I convinced him to give me three days off.”

“That’s impressive. I’m happy you did though.”

“I wanted us to have some time to ourselves, just to relax.”

“I still can’t believe you actually like me this much,” Gwaine said.

“Well believe it,” Merlin wished they could erase all doubt from Gwaine’s mind. “I could use a nice hot meal. Do you know any good establishments nearby?”

“As it happens, I do.”

 

The tavern Gwaine led them to turned out to be one Merlin had visited once before.

“Good evening, Mary.”

“Hello Gwaine,” Mary beamed when she saw him, and then her smile grew even wider. “Oh, look who you’ve brought.”

Merlin blushed.

“I never did catch your name?”

“It’s Merlin.”

“Nice to meet you, Merlin.”

“You look like a startled rabbit, Merlin,” Gwaine said with a chuckle.

“Sorry. Uh… place looks nice.”

“Business picked up as soon as the rumours reached us that Dagr had died. I hear we have you and Gwaine to thank for that.”

“It’s nothing.” Merlin gulped and looked at Gwaine for a cue.

“Are you serving food just now?” Gwaine asked, out of politeness more than not knowing the answer.

“Of course,” Mary said. “Have a seat.” 

“So, you come here often?” Merlin asked when they were both seated on the same side of a table, and leaned back against Gwaine’s shoulder. “Isn’t this village in Camelot?”

“Mary’s a cousin, of sorts,” Gwaine said. “Only connection I have left to my family.”

“Oh…”

“Technically, yes, but it’s on the outskirts and some would argue otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, Gwaine.”

He rested his cheek against Merlin’s hair. “It’s okay.”

 

After dinner, they paid Mary and made their way upstairs to the lodging rooms. They were sparse, but warm, and Merlin for one was looking forward to sleeping in a bed again.

 _“Scjldgaldre,”_ they incanted, almost in a whisper, and cast a furtive glance at Gwaine, whose expression held no disgust whatsoever. Still, it felt odd using magic freely like this: they would go months at a time without seeing Lancelot – _he was definitely due another visit,_ they thought – and they tried not to use it around Gwen, to offer her as much plausible deniability as possible since she was courting Arthur and they had made her promise not to tell him. To Gaius, magic was all business.

“What was that?” Gwaine asked.

“A soundproofing spell,” Merlin said. “So that we can talk as freely as we like within these four walls.”

“Fantastic.”

“Can I braid your hair?”

“What?” Gwaine blinked.

“Uh… can I braid your hair?” Merlin didn’t know how such boldness had overcome them all of a sudden and felt it quickly receding.

“Sure.”

They sat down on one of the beds and he settled in front of them, and they reached to comb through his hair with their fingers. It was greasy from several days unwashed, but they didn’t care. It was comforting, nonetheless. They split the top into sections and began to weave.

Gwaine ripped a portion off of the black fabric around his arms for Merlin to use to secure the end.

“It’s getting dark outside,” Gwaine remarked, looking towards the small window.

“It’s hard to believe that only this morning we were just this side of the woods before the Perilous Lands,” Merlin said.

“Was that really only this morning?”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Should we…?” Gwaine mimed pushing the two slim single beds together.

“You don’t… you don’t want to… do you?” Merlin asked, then worried Gwaine would be disappointed. “Not – not that I don’t want to, ever. I do, I might, maybe, but, uh… not today. I’m tired and we’re both still sweaty and grimy from the quest and– “

“Merlin,” Gwaine interrupted their rambling and took their hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry, I’m not after that, though I’m certainly amenable to the general idea, there’s no rush. But tonight, if you would like, I would quite like to be next to you.”

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like that.”

So they pushed the beds together, and after several minutes shuffling and rearranging limbs, they managed to find a position where they were both comfortable, and then Gwaine was asleep within seconds.

It wasn’t long before Merlin joined him in slumber; just long enough to wonder how he might react if they told him that they had fallen in love with him.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks goes to my good friend nebby for the beta work, and for encouraging me in general and letting me ramble.
> 
> The title for this fic is from the song "alive again" by temperance. [audio: bandcamp](https://scarletrecords.bandcamp.com/track/alive-again) ~ [audio: youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZ4ovYqyikM) ~ [lyrics text: genius.com](https://genius.com/Temperance-alive-again-lyrics)
> 
> Since there was no soundproofing spell mentioned in canon, I had to come up with one. i used https://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/ but i don't understand grammar well enough to decrypt this website so i cobbled _"Scjldgaldre"_ together using the direct words listed below. if Tolkien's ghost is out there i apologise if i made you cry.
> 
>  


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